


if we lay a strong enough foundation

by zerotransfat



Series: and when my time is up [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ...Kinda, Angela's world keeps changing on her, Angst, But passing the torch is a fact of life, Future Fic, Gabriel is going hoooommmme (teach me how to say goodbye), M/M, Memories, Mentioned Character Death, More Hamiltunes References Abound, Protect Angela Ziegler 2k16, Reinhardt Retires, Soft Sad Dad Gabe, There's a ghost named Jack between the two of them and they talk, angela's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerotransfat/pseuds/zerotransfat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her world had changed when the blast shook the ground beneath her, shaking solid earth and leaving her without footing. The foundations disappeared when Overwatch collapsed the first time.</p><p>It changed again when Gabriel came back to them, mask in hand and saying things like "<em>I never stopped, Angela.</em>"</p><p>And now, here they were, ten years later and Gabriel poised to leave again.<br/> </p><p>Sequel to <a href="archiveofourown.org/works/7576630">drink down my days</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if we lay a strong enough foundation

**Author's Note:**

> I was blown away by the response to drink down my days, so here's a glimpse at the distant future. And if it's not quite clear enough, then this fic references several songs from _Hamilton_ , most specifically "One Last Time" and "Stay Alive (Reprise)", thanks anon from tumblr who pointed that out.

She remembered the day of the explosion, of course she did. Angela was there that day, wrapping up a delivery of medical supplies in the outskirts of Watchpoint: Zurich and signing off on it when the blast shook the earth underneath her, bringing them all to their feet. 

She tore towards the centre of the base like a bat out of hell, picking her way through the rubble, desperately searching for someone,  _ anyone _ , who survived the blast. Angela ignored the smoke, the heat blistering her skin. Her nanites would take care of it.

Coughing as the dust drifted in the air, she called, “Is anyone out there?!”

A small groan, the voice familiar—“Jack!”

“An…gela?” He said back to her, blood pouring down his face from large gaping cuts. Her heart ached in sympathy, but she pushed her feelings aside. “Angela, please…”

“Hold on Jack, stay awake! I’m getting you out of here,” she gasped as she clawed at the rubble pinning the soldier down. The jagged rock tore at her hands as she managed to dig Jack out of the ruins.

“No…Gabe…G-Gabe is still—” Jack coughed, his body wracked with tremors. “I have to go, Angela. He’s still in there!”   


“You are in no condition to be worrying about anyone else right now, Jack!” she yelled, dragging Jack away as best she could. There were helicopters already overhead and Angela knew she couldn’t trust them, knew that there was no way a bomb could have been set in the Watchpoint unless—

_ Unless it was an inside job. _

“I’m getting you out of here and that’s final,” she snapped at Jack. “Don’t move, you idiot!”

He struggled in her arms. “God—I have to go back, go back! He’s still in there! Let me go, Angela!”

She closed her heart and continued the trudge outward, away.

 

* * *

 

Later, when she dug Gabriel’s dead body out of that rubble, whispering a quiet promise over him, she felt like the world had slipped out from underneath her feet in the explosion, like she had taken flight and couldn’t come down.

Later, she didn't say anything about how Jack’s eyes glazed as he watched the footage of blast over and over, she didn’t say anything at all when he left a single, solitary note and a tall stack of documents that made her heart  _ ache  _ ( _ Subjects J and G not expected to survive— _ ) behind and disappeared into the wind.

She didn't say anything at all about the bouquet of forget-me-nots that someone had left at Jack’s grave.

_ They were so blue. _

 

* * *

  
  


She stared down at the operating table, at the ravaged body of Gabriel Reyes, and knew in her bones that what she was doing was wrong. She stood, feet flat on the ground, as if to keep herself grounded even as she slipped. Pretending that she was on solid earth.

Angela injected the nanites, the liquid black like a lightless night sky, and suddenly remembered, all those years ago, when she first became a doctor and swore the oath.

_ Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. Above all, I must not play at God. _

And then he started screaming.

_ “Und vergib üs üseri Schuld, wie mer üsere Mitmensche,”  _ she sobbed as he thrashed against the restraints.

It was a long night.

 

* * *

 

_ Fifteen Years Later _

_ Watchpoint: Gibraltar _

 

The first thing Gabe asked for after Angela went through with the procedure to stabilize his cell was a cup of coffee. Black, no cream, no sugar, just a boring old cup of Pike Place roast. He took a sip of it, still steaming hot.

“It tastes just like how it used to,” The man said, voice unchanged, almost casual. “The most boring coffee I’ve ever had.”

Angela didn’t say anything about how his expression—fond, a little sad—betrayed what he was thinking.  _ Remembering. _

He remained silent after that, only sat by the window and looking out into the bright Mediterranean afternoon. Angela did the same, pulling up a chair and nursing her own mug. Her surgery scrubs stuck to the cheap vinyl with her sweat, accumulated after hours of intensive work. The ache of exhaustion settled in her bones as she sat, feet flat against the ground, pretending to be on solid earth.

“Of all the things you could have asked for, you pick coffee,” she said, fighting to keep the tiredness out of her small grin. “If you feel you haven’t slept enough these past few days maybe you shouldn’t have asked for something that keeps you awake. I still have your standing prescription for sleeping pills.”

“I’ve slept enough already. I’ve dreamed enough, too.” Gabe didn’t look at her. “It wouldn’t hurt to stay awake just a little longer.”

She looked at Gabe then—hair still black, face uncreased, still fluid in motion even after all these years—and thought of herself. She thought about the grey hairs at her temples, the way the lines around her eyes creased in her reflection when she smiled, the way her joints sometimes ached when landing with her Guardian Angel wings. She really looked at him, and felt bone tired and old.

“Yes, it wouldn’t hurt.” She curled up in her chair then, holding her knees close to her. “I know you have something on your mind, Gabe. I’ve known you for too long. Spit it out already.”

Gabe didn’t respond right away, uncharacteristically. The man was never known for being indecisive—as a commander both in the old Overwatch and new, he had to be very used to making snap decisions, calls on the battlefield that determined the tide.

“It’s been ten years, Angela.” A dark finger traced patterns along the rim of the white coffee mug. “Ten years since I came back to Overwatch.”

Angela remembered that day, of course she did. Reaper standing there, with black mist curling around his edges like he himself was something made out of a dream. Then he had reached for his mask, tearing it away with a sickening crack and squelch of bone and flesh, and changed everything. The foundations of the world changed underneath her in that moment, solid earth a distant memory.

“I didn't forget, Gabriel. You came back.”

“And now, now I’m going to leave again.”

She was suddenly blindsided, like she had the foundations of her world pulled out from under her feet, like she had felt when Reinhardt showed up six months ago in Winston’s office with a solemn smile and a formal resignation letter, the old lionheart finally going to his rest. Angela pressed her heels hard onto the linoleum flooring.

The only thing she said was, “When?”

“In two weeks. I handed in my resignation papers today.”

Two weeks. Two weeks to say goodbye. That’s—

“More than enough time for the management to pressure you about changing your mind. Winston won’t be very happy.”

Gabe resolutely did not look at her, instead staring at the violets growing in the box under the window. “He’ll deal. Just like the rest of the younger generation.”

Oh, she knew they would—Overwatch was younger now, more idealistic again, and with that came the adaptability of youth, of fresh eyes. But growing up was never a painless process.

"One last time," Gabe said, eyes not leaving the flowers. “The public will hear from me one last time—and if I get this right, it'll teach me how to say goodbye."

"As far as people are concerned you have to serve, you could continue to serve," Angela said. The words were sluggish coming out of her mouth. They both knew her heart wasn’t in it completely. ”They don't care about what happened at Blackwatch all that much anymore."

"No. I want my own place, under the vine and fig tree—damn it, Angela, I want my moment alone in the shade. I've made so many mistakes and I want to go  _ home _ ." If he was any younger he would have snarled, but he just didn't have the same fire in his voice anymore—he only managed to sound exhausted. She then realized:  _ he’s grown old. As have I. _

There’s a ghost shared between the two of them, blond and blue-eyed. Forever blond and blue-eyed.

Angela owed Gabe, she owed that blue-eyed ghost more than the words she cannot say. She smiled, and reached out to put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

"Well then," she said. "As an old friend, I'm obligated to help. We'll teach them how to say goodbye, old soldier, you and I.”

From the way Gabriel looked at her, thankful and above all else  _ tired _ , Angela felt her heart ache.

She doesn’t push it away.

 

* * *

 

Overwatch gathered the night before Gabriel was due to leave, in that tried and trusted rec room in Gibraltar. There was a lot of beer and food, and even Torbjörn, Reinhardt and Ana came out of retirement to visit. Lucio reprised his role as DJ, and they danced and laughed into the night, like they had done so many times before.

Later, much later, after the rest of them all went to bed and left Angela and Gabe alone in the room, they sat together, talking about whatever came to mind—the way Fareeha used to try and prank everyone on base with Jesse, the way Gérard used to never shut up about Amélie, the way Torbjörn planted violets in the garden with all the protectiveness of a mother bear.

They talked about that blond-haired, blue-eyed ghost. Memories of him stealing the entire pot of coffee from the kitchen, teaching the younger recruits how to aim, laughing as he groaned about reports and paperwork. They don’t talk about how he became later on, white-haired, eyes lined, above all  _ tired _ .

“Do you remember? Team karaoke nights, back in the old Zurich base?” Oh, Zurich—so many memories, overshadowed by one blast. Foundations gone in an instant. “Jack could never sing in a duet properly. I taught him to carry a tune, but he would change the melody every time.”

“Ha,” Gabe said, eyes smiling,”He would always change the line.”

The other man took another swig of his beer, eyes fond and a little sad. 

There was a long silence.

“I know you have your mind set on leaving, Gabriel. Are you sure you don’t want to stay, even for just a little while longer?” Angela said, quieter than she had been all evening. Gabriel didn't take his eyes off of his own scarred hands.

“I’ve had my fill, the bitter, the sweet. God help and forgive, Angela; hopefully this new Overwatch is something that’ll outlive me. The younger ones—they’re gonna blow us all away, right out of the water in what they can do, what they  _ will  _ do. I can’t stay forever, we have to move on.  _ I  _ have to move on.” Gabe’s hand reached up to his lips, like he was remembering something. “Better to make it fast, even if it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.”

Angela didn't ask.

“Tell me this again,” she said. “Tell me: did you ever stop?”

He knew what she meant. “No. I never stopped.”

“Good. That’s all I need to know.”

“You may be leaving, Gabe, but never forget that there is a place for you here. You’re family.” She said with all the protective love of her namesake. “We’re not giving you up, old friend.”

“Old friend,” he said, “old friends and old family. What a place.”

“To old wine, old friends, and new beginnings,” she raised her glass, and smiled. “Forget us not, as always.”

“Always and forever,” Gabe said. “Hey. Best of friends, best of family.”

“Hey. Right back at you,” Angela said. She sat in her chair, feet flat on the floor, grounded.

It’s gonna be a quiet night.

 

* * *

  
  
In the morning, their shared ghost smiled at them before slipping softly out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @shotaqueen, @ave, @Ready2Comply, and @baffled queen for letting me scream at them, much appreciated. 
> 
> Extra special thanks to [polyvolchant](http://polyvolchant.tumblr.com) on tumblr who blew me away with their art of  
> [drink down my days](http://polyvolchant.tumblr.com/post/148449749847/inspired-by-a-beautiful-fanfic-on-ao3-by); your art inspires me, and I hereby dedicate this part to you. Cheers, love.
> 
> I am [here](http://copperpatina.tumblr.com) on tumblr, come scream at me about the pain.


End file.
